


Mindfuck

by neunundneunzig



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Brain Damage, Gore, Goretober 2018, M/M, Murder Kink, Necrophilia, Skull Fucking, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16271687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neunundneunzig/pseuds/neunundneunzig
Summary: A continuation/alternate ending ofJustlikeyouimaged's Goretober fill forBrain Trauma, which I would recommend reading before this, or in general.Hannibal goes even further with Will's precious brain.





	Mindfuck

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Goretober Kinktober 2018](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156049) by [EzraBlake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraBlake/pseuds/EzraBlake), [justlikeyouimagined](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeyouimagined/pseuds/justlikeyouimagined). 



> **WARNING**
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> 
> Standard disclaimers for my fics. Don't read if you're not prepared for extreme sexual violence and gore. 
> 
> Will gets fucked to death in his brain. I feel like I can't make that more clear, but I definitely don't want people stumbling into this unprepared. 
> 
> Also, there's this tone of victim blaming in this, despite how illogical.

Suddenly, he knows that this cannot be their end. Not yet.

And yet…

Scalpel clattering to the floor, Hannibal approaches further, mouth an inch from the long cavernous fissure separating the two hemispheres. His tongue trembles behind his teeth, the smell overpowering. When he moves, he is light, careful. Devoted. Under the thousands of receptors, a dizzying taste of blood mixing with a salty metallic wash of cerebrospinal fluid. He follows the sharp edge of his skull with his tongue, laps softly, oh so softly, over Will Graham, over his sense of self, his moral compass, his self-imposed antisocial demeanor. His body vibrates as he resists the urge to sink his teeth in, consume.

Not yet. Not now.

Under him, Will mumbles, dry mouthed and drugged, “Wendigo.”

Hannibal breaks. He mouths along the pounding pink surface, tongue dragging up fluid and secretions.

A whine escapes Will. He sounds so much like he did lying on the floor of Hannibal's kitchen. A reoccurring fantasy about that night crosses Hannibal's mind, and he shivers. He reached down to adjust himself, then whispers in Will's ear. He tongues dried blood gently off the top of it before speaking.

“Will. I'm about to do something horrible to you. It's very uncouth and extremely rude. Unfortunately for you, you're going to have to be alive through some of it, so I can't be sorry enough.”

Will struggles to make a noise, cut off as Hannibal pushes a finger through the split of his brain. He leans close and begins kissing the tear. Will makes a choked noise and pisses himself. It's not surprising, it's amazing he has any control left over himself at all. 

“Vile boy.” Hannibal chuckles against his weeping head. Then he gives a soft, calming hum, “Don't worry, I love you. Understand that. I want you to die knowing how much I love you.”

Even if Hannibal stops now, Will would never be the same. He deserves it, for doing the same to Hannibal. He drags his bottom lip over the bleeding mess. Will deserves nothing less than this—to be the complete center of Hannibal's attention, and everything that comes with it. 

Hannibal deepens his kiss, sucking at the wet hole, darting his tongue inside. It was salty and wet. He carves through memories, sensations, personality traits, eating out his very being. He never had the pleasure to consume brain before, none tempted him as Will did. The herbs he made the man drink seemed to do very little, but he didn't mind. He has plenty of other pleasures for himself here. The experience meant more to him than the taste, and both were addictive.

He moans against him, unable to help himself. Will belonged to him completely, and Hannibal would make love to the very essence of him. He grabs at his neck and gently tugs at the hair attached to what remains of his skull. His tongue flicks inside, exploring ridges and grooves. Will could be feeling anything right now. 

Hannibal surveys his work for a moment before pulling out his erection. He's already leaking precum. He strokes Will's irrevocably ruined skull. He wasn't dead, yet. Hannibal wasn't going to check what was squeezed or damaged. He wants to believe Will could hear him. 

“It's a shame we never had sex before. There were many times I would have liked to lead you to bed, but I had more important things in motion. I wish I chose carnal pleasures instead, in hindsight. I would have loved to fuck your body as you and everyone you knew bled out in my home. Perhaps slide myself into your spilled organs. I dreamt of it for months. Don't worry. We get to be together now, dear Will.” 

He slides the purple head of his cock along the ridge. He knows he wouldn't last long He had plenty sexual experience. But none of that would hold a flame to rubbing himself against the exposed, beautiful surface of Will's brain. This moment will be on his mind any time he orgasms from now on. Nothing will be as perfect. He needs this more than air. 

Hannibal doesn't want to detract from this reconciliation with critiques any more. But he can't help but think about the swollen mass his head would have been while he suffered encephalitis. Near the end, it would have been sublime, Will wet with sweat and sickly sweet smelling of fever. He gives the brain a squeeze, enraptured with its sensation and returning himself to the beautiful present.

He caresses the side of Will's face gently, noting the drool dripping down his chin, mixed with deep red blood. 

“I love you, Will. This is all my love.”

He shoves himself into the stretched, unnatural hole in his cerebellum. Will gives a last horrible screech. Hannibal pulls himself half out and thrust in again, then again, impaling Will on his cock. 

He grabs his jaw from beneath, changing the angle and breaking through untouched tissue. He holds Will flat against his pelvis as he finished inside his skull, leaking into the lobes.

He gives a few gentle rocks in, looking down at Will's peaceful expression. He slides himself out and leans to give his pale lips a gentle kiss. Their first. He sucks gently, blood and spit 

 

Jack Crawford stands in the hallway, hands shaking. He thought what he'd learned of Hannibal, the various other crime scenes he'd witnessed, the friends he lost would dull him. He thought he was prepared to see anything. But he couldn't be desensitized enough for that.

The glimpse he caught of what was happening in that room made his stomach drop and his chest near collapse.

What made it worse, for sure, was the knowledge of the two men. He had hours of dinner, work, polite conversation with a man who would take his patient and good friend's brain and…

Jack tries not to retch. The look on Will's face was scarred into his mind. He knew it was the endorphins released, but he looked close to bliss in death. It might have been the happiest he ever appeared. 

 

Hannibal examines the damage. The brain was not spoiled per se, not for eating, but preparation would be harder. Nevertheless, he would make do. He grabs the knife, smiling and adjusting Will, 

“Thank you for this. I know you love me too.”


End file.
